


You'll Remember Me

by MapleleafCameo



Series: Promises Lightly [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ice Skating, Melancholy, Night Skating, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when loneliness weighs you down, you have to skate it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com/), creator of the web comic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693/)

The moonlight lit up the frozen pond and the night faded the edges into soft gray and then to black, rather like when the lights were down, and there was a spotlight. There was no sound of the crowd, restlessly waiting for the music to start, to signal the arrival of the skater. In the distance were faint sounds of traffic, laughter and an occasional shout of someone calling out to somebody else. It was poignant somehow, deep inside, like the hush in a church service on Christmas Eve or that feeling he sometimes got when up to see the dawn. The air had that crisp feel to it, like breathing in diamond dust. The light gleamed and bounced, sparkled, caught his eye. The night sky was velvety black, and there was just enough distance from campus to prevent the lights from totally obscuring the stars. The few trees blocked what little wind was there.  
  
Bitty was feeling, not alone exactly. He never felt really alone since coming here; well, except for that one time when Murray and Hall had talked to him about his little problem. Lately, he’d felt he needed something more; some unnamed thing was missing. There was a hole in his heart and a melancholy feel inside. It wasn’t the aloneness of the body; it was the aloneness of the soul.  
  
So he came out here, his phone and ‘buds in the pocket of his jacket and his skates, his figure skates, not hockey, to see if he could center himself. Sometimes when the emptiness, the loneliness got to be too much the only way to drive it back, make it behave was to skate it out. As much as he had come to love hockey, the rush and the sheer swiftness of the Game, figure skating, being one with his body and the music, would always be first.  
  
He sat on the old log and took off his shoes. Lacing up his skates was a ritual, a time-honored tradition, and a comfort, like rolling out pastry or peeling apples. The rhythm of it was relaxing.  
  
He pushed in his ‘buds, skated out. He didn’t hit play right away. He doodled a bit; testing the ice, finding the spots where it was a bit rough from shinny earlier. He warmed up, found the place inside where he breathed the ice and the feel of it. Ice was hard and slick, but it gave him wings. He felt bigger than himself on the ice, connected to it.  
  
His muscles felt fluid and warm, and he skated to the middle of the pond and hit play. The song he wanted cued up. It was a perfect song for the mood he was in. The soft strains of a guitar and the beautiful, soulful voice of Eva Cassidy filled his ears. He’d picked this because it had been one of his favorite skating pieces, Michelle Kwan’s exhibition performance. It spoke to him, was the performance that had solidified his need to skate. Soft and melancholy, light and lyrical, it called to the ache in his heart the same way the night did.  
  
Eyes closed for a moment and then he let go. Freeform skating was not something he had often indulged in, but it seemed to ease the heaviness in his heart.  Soft turns, at first, some jumps, leaned forward with leg extended, moving with the song, sparkles danced on the edge of his skates and as the music swelled he could imagine, with the light of the moon he was in a different world, transported to a different place.  
  
The chorus repeated the words that seemed to tug at him the most. He built up the speed for the triple; his body attuned to it.  
  
_You’ll remember me_  
_When the west wind moves_  
_Among the fields of barley_  
  
The end of the jump and he landed, perfect, not even the frozen ripples or edges carved in the ice from earlier disrupted his flow.  
  
The song came to an end. His heart, while maybe not lighter, felt it had a little more space in it. Perhaps now he could sleep.  
  
He skated over to the edge of the pond.  
  
And he was startled by a slow clap coming from near the log. A dark shape stood there, tall and looming, blended in with the night.  
  
“Oh my goodness, Jack. You practically scared me outta my skin. Don’t sneak up on someone like that.” Bitty’s heart was racing. Not just from the skate and not just from the fright. He sat on the log and began unlacing his skates.  
  
“Do you…could you, maybe leave ‘em on for a bit? You know, so I could come out and skate with you?” It was the longest string of words Bitty had heard Jack say that didn’t have to do with hockey, although Bitty wondered if it counted because Jack had definitely mentioned skates.  
  
“You want to skate or are you trying to sneak in a practice?” Bitty grinned.  
  
Jack smiled back, a slow, pleased grin. “Would I do that?”  
  
“Damn straight you would.”  
  
“Maybe this time, I just want to skate.”  
  
Something changed, at that moment. The lingering ache in Bitty’s heart lifted and disappeared. The night continued to feel mysterious and ripe for magic, puckish and elfin. Retying his lace, he stepped out onto the ice. Jack, who had put on his skates while watching Bitty, followed.  
  
They skated a bit, not doing anything in particular, when Jack reached out and tagged Bitty, “Catch me, Bitty!” he yelled as he sped away.  
  
Jack may have been bigger, but Bitty was faster.  He caught up with him, laughing, his cheeks glowing with the frosty air and he squatted down and scooped up some ice shavings and threw them at Jack. They caught in his hair. Jack laughed a joyous and hearty sound, one not often heard by the members of his team.  
  
He turned and caught Bitty; his arm wrapped around his chest, and he swung him around to face him. “Gotcha!”  
  
They stood there, breathless, the night wrapping around them. There was a moment, a hesitation, a promise hovering on the edge ready to tip over into something unnamable.  
  
And it was gone, shifted with a distant shout or the sound of the trees creaking or a dog barking. The magic lessened, dissipating from something otherworldly and into something more of hearth and home.  
  
“We should go. Early practice, Bittle.”  
  
They sat in companionable silence, skates removed and wiped down, shoes returned to their feet. The walk back to the Haus felt friendlier than the walk to the pond.  
  
“Night, Bits.”  
  
“Night, Jack.”  
  
Tucked into bed, Bitty’s was able to slip into sleep, completely unaware of the grin still on his face.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> The song Bitty is listening to is [Fields of Gold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UVjjcOUJLE/) sung by Eva Cassidy.
> 
> And here is a video of the [Exhibition piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wazOhkRuySI/) by Michelle Kwan, Bitty would have watched when he was about 7.


End file.
